It's Not the Size of the Sword
by BurtieBee
Summary: Because expecting Isabela not to probe into Hawke's bedroom secrets in the middle of a crowded market would just be ridiculous. F!Hawke/Fenris. No spoilers.


Title: It's Not the Size of the Sword, It's the Skill of the Swing

Rating: M (I was unsure, so I rated it high)

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Bioware. *le sigh.

a/n: I've been trying to get through my second playthrough of DA:2, but I keep having to stop and write out the little ideas that pop into my head, such as this one. They're tenacious little buggers, aren't they? My first uploaded fic, so I'd definitely welcome any criticism.

This takes place sometime in Act II, shortly after Fenris smexy times.

* * *

"I heard an interesting rumor today," Isabela said, the innocent tone of her voice instantly sending my stomach plummeting.

"Really," I said, affecting disinterest as I looked through the merchant's stall.

"Oh, yes," she said laughingly. "_Someone's_ been a naughty girl. Not that I can blame you. All the raw animality wrapped up in that lithe, elven body..." she trailed off, her words ending in a sensual shudder. "I bet he was a _fantastic_ lay."

"Isabela," I ground out in desperation. "He can _hear_ you!"

"No he can't. Look, he's over there, browsing the swords."

Feeling sick, I glanced over my shoulder to the weapons stall, where Fenris stood a few feet from us. He appeared to be inspecting the broadsword in his hand, testing its balance while seemingly oblivious to our conversation, but...

"Maybe if browsing swords made you _deaf_," I said sarcastically.

Clicking her tongue, she rolled her eyes slightly. "I wouldn't worry. Men are utterly entranced by anything that reminds them of their penises."

Groaning, my eyes shut of their own volition as I prayed for the strength to resist turning her into a busty Rivaini ice sculpture in the middle of the market.

"Speaking of _swords_," she said, leaning casually against the corner of the stall, "what does he sheathe in those incredibly tight pants of his? Are we talking dagger? Longsword?" Leaning closer, she raised an eyebrow. "_Broad_sword?"

"Isabela!" I gasped, the bag I was inspecting falling from my fingers in alarm. I resisted the urge to look over my shoulder again. "I'm not going to tell you that! _Why_ in the Maker would I tell you that?"

"Oh. Dagger? That's disappointing. Although it isn't always necessarily the size that matters. Some of the best lays I've ever had were from men with small-"

"That is _not_ what I said," I interrupted in a furious whisper. "He's not- it's not-" Stopping myself, I clamped my mouth shut before I could say something to turn my cheeks an even deeper shade of red.

"So not a dagger, then. Interesting..." She paused thoughtfully, ignoring my glare with ease. "Did you seduce him? Or did he take you in an act of raw, mindless pass-"

"Do you really want to know?" I said, frantic to make her stop talking. "The entire sordid affair?"

"Mmm, sordid," she said, perking up in interest. "I knew this was going to be good."

"Fine," I said, pinching the bridge of my nose in resignation. "He came over for a visit, late at night. Mother and Bodahn had gone to bed, so it was just the two of us, alone in front of the fire." I paused, my eyes becoming unfocused as I stared into the distance. "The fire was dying, but the night was so warm..."

"I like where this is going," she said, prodding me to continue.

"I just remember it being so hot," I whispered. "I almost couldn't stand it. I did everything that I could think of; I loosened the opening of my robes, held up my hair...but nothing could cool the fever of my skin. I know now that it had nothing to do with the temperature in the room," I said, a wicked smile curving my lips. Isabela listened intently, her lips slightly parted. "I was surprised when I could suddenly feel him behind me. Despite the heat, I started to shiver when he leaned close to me and whispered in my ear that he knew how to help me. With the most gentle of touches, he slipped the house robe from my shoulders and let it fall to the floor, leaving me utterly exposed before him. The steel of his armor was cold against my back as he stepped closer and pressed me to him, running his hands-"

"Wait," she interrupted, frowning. "Isn't this the plot to the book I loaned you last month?"

Smug, I smiled to myself. "Is it?"

Isabela glared at me, straightening from stall and placing a hand on her hip. "You little minx! You really had me going for a minute." A reluctant laugh burst from her lips, and she shook her head wryly. "Very well. Keep him all to yourself if you wish, you selfish creature. Just know that I will be languishing in my ignorance tonight while you enjoy your cruel little joke."

"From the arms of a handsome Orlesian sailor, no doubt."

"I have to console myself somehow," she said, sending me a wink as she turned from me to stand with Merrill, who was patiently awaiting the end of what was supposed to have been a quick stop to pick up a few potions. I handed my coin over to a flustered shopkeeper, who promptly shoved the elfroot potion into my hands without meeting my eyes.

Sighing, I wedged the bottles into my pack, which was nearly overflowing with junk. A movement caught my eye, and I looked up in time to see Fenris turning from the weapon vendor. Our eyes met for a brief second before he broke the contact, but not before I came away with the absolute knowledge that he'd heard every word.

It was going to be a long day. Balls.


End file.
